The Lady Vanishes
by Magical Maeve
Summary: Borgin and Burkes ends up with many objects that have a dark history, not least the vanishing cabinet. This is the story of poor Lizzie Vine and her doomed meeting with a certain Malfoy.


Another day was quietly being extinguished, although in the depths of the dusty shop owned by a certain Mr Borgin it was easy to miss the passing of day into night. Gloom had set up home here, and was more than comfortable amongst the dust and darkness that permeated even the wallpaper. The aging man was busily sifting through a box that had just been brought in by one of his agents, a sly man who worked best when persuading old wizards and witches to part with their 'clutter'.

Unfortunately, in this instance, the box really did contain clutter. Borgin tutted and grumbled as he pulled out one useless item after another.

"Damned idiot," he said with a sigh, throwing everything back into the box and kicking it towards the back room. "He should have known it was rubbish. If he thinks he's getting paid for that load of old tat, he's got another thing co…"

He broke off. It was there again. Goosebumps raced up his arms as he turned his head towards the black Vanishing Cabinet in the corner. He couldn't remember exactly when he had first noticed the mournful song that occasionally seeped from the seams of the carpentry, but once heard, it was not to be forgotten. And now, here it was again. His heart collapsed in on itself, responding as only hearts can to the desperate sound of another heart in torment. Borgin was, at best, an odious man, his heart calcified by years of loneliness and neglect, but even he could not ignore the sorrow contained within that Cabinet.

He'd opened the door, of course. He'd even gone so far as to poke his head in. Nothing, however, would have persuaded him to set foot into the Cabinet, not with something so obviously trapped in there. Vanishing Cabinets had a long and illustrious history, especially where tricking Muggles was concerned, but Borgin knew that, like anything, they could have a dark purpose. This one just oozed malcontent, from its mitred corners to the wooden pegs that held it together. Whoever had created it had done so with malice in mind, and the mournful sound that it emitted merely stood as testament to that fact.

The sound stopped just as the door to the shop creaked painfully open. He turned from the blackness of the wooden object to the pale smoothness of one of his best customer's faces.

"Now then, Mr Malfoy, what can I do for you?"

From the depths of the inky well that lay on the inside of the Cabinet's door, the creator of the song could hear something. A faint echo of life reached her ageless ears and she stopped singing. The voice was familiar, and yet unfamiliar. It contained within it the clipped vowels and shards of glass that had once tormented her ears and tried to steal her soul. But it could not be. He must be long dead and unable to reach her now. No one could reach her now.

Lizzie Vine was a pretty thing. She was not yet beautiful, although time might make her so. Many young men had tried to court her fancy, and, doubtless, many young men had been spurned. Lizzie was possessed of a great deal of common sense and practicality; she would not allow any boy who was not exactly of her station to impede the natural course of her life. She was a farmer's daughter, so she would marry a farmer's son. Not for her the path of self-improvement and dangerous affiliations with those either too rich or too poor. What she wanted was someone who was just right, and that someone was James Holt. James was a competent man, two years older than her. His family owned the right amount of acreage on the right side of town, and she brought with her the right amount of money as a dowry to make everything perfect. And she loved him.

Lizzie Vine was that most fortunate of women; she was completely, utterly and irrevocably in love with the man that fate and her family had decreed should be her husband.

And James Holt was in love with her.

Their marriage was set for the thirteenth of July, a day that, it was predicted, the small village of Much Muckleton would remember for a very long time.

And Fate would have been satisfied with her plans had it not been for one thing. Julius Malfoy.

Julius Malfoy was a young wizard of twenty. He was sculpted from the same flinty block of stone that had produced his father. His eyes were chips of slate that cut cleanly through anyone unfortunate enough to either please or displease him. And he had money – pots of the stuff. Julius was a young man with the world at his feet and a castle for a home. What could go wrong?

Well, Cupid stepped in and challenged Fate to a duel.

Julius fell in love with Lizzie Vine one overcast day when he passed by her village. She was driving a cow up to a neighbouring farm to be serviced by a bull, and her fresh, flushed face shone up at him as he rode by her. That he startled her cow and caused her to have to run after it was of no consequence to him. He had to have Lizzie Vine.

Her skirts teased her feet as she pelted after the cow, and he urged his horse into a canter. He caught up with them quickly and poor Lizzie looked up at him beseechingly.

"Please, sir, you are frightening my cow. Can you please stop chasing us?"

Such tiny, perfect teeth, he thought. What a sweet note to her voice she has. Julius ignored centuries of Malfoy indignation at the very existence of Muggles and decided that this girl would be his.

Of course, he had no intention of marrying her. He wasn't that much of a fool to love. But a cottage could be found, an allowance paid. She would be his as and when he chose. A future wife need never know about the arrangement. Oh, yes. Lizzie Vine was his.

There was only one problem with this.

Lizzie Vine was already spoken for.

And so began a sad and fruitless courtship. Julius pursued her relentlessly, with an ardour that was undimmed no matter how many times she said no, and no matter how she phrased that no. A simple no had the same lack of effect as a 'get your filthy hands off me, you heathenous rascal!' In the end, she told James, who visited the large and imposing edifice that was Malfoy Manor. He lasted five minutes before Julius threw him out, but not before significant damage had been done in the form of Cauis Malfoy, Julius' father.

Cauis was understandably outraged that his son wanted anything to do with a Muggle and forbade him to see Lizzie ever again. Julius lasted three hours before he found himself once more lusting after the pale, peach skin that coated Lizzie's slender frame. He had vision of her moist tongue darting from those perfectly arranged teeth as she scolded him or told him to let her in peace. Her hair, that treacherous mass of copper that had once fallen free of its bindings in a struggle they had had in a disused barn, taunted his mind. There was nothing else for it; his father would have to be disobeyed.

So Julius visited the library rather more often than was normal. Cauis was pleased that his wayward son was seeking solace in books and forgetting about the wanton wench from the village who had bewitched him.

It was the heavy tome entitled_ Moste Magickal Ways With Carpentrie_ that finally offered up a solution to his problem.

In one of the disused bedrooms on the third floor was a Vanishing Cabinet. It was made of black ebony with gold furniture adorning it, and it was just what he needed, if he could only find a partner for it. It would be necessary to visit London.

The thirteenth of July arrived, and as predicted, the day was a complete and utter success. A glorious truffle of a day, which enticed and invigorated all that attended the nuptials. Lizzie looked particularly dazzling in her gown of white cotton trimmed with finest Nottingham lace. They cut cake, drank toasts, and sat down to a fine wedding feast created by all the farmer's wives of the village and its environs. Lizzie was thrilled with everything, pleased that her life was well on track.

The presents also delighted her. A fine set of knives from Mr and Mrs Cutler, delicate table linen from old Mrs Seemer, a cruet set from her sister Alice, and a most handsome cupboard that had somehow lost its label. Lizzie was most distraught that she could not identify her benefactor and thank them personally, but her distress was calmed when the cabinet was placed in her new bedroom. It dominated the low-ceilinged room with its dark magnificence.

Her wedding night was, as she had expected, a delightful experience. She lay with her new husband and breathed in the scent of the woollen blankets that Mr Shepherd, the… well, the shepherd, had presented them with. Her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep, was that life was as perfect as it could possibly be.

Julius was also feeling that life was rather jolly. He opened the door to his Vanishing Cabinet and breathed in the scent of the magic that he has cast over it. Now all he had to do was wait. Sooner or later she would notice the glint of gold in the bottom corner of the Cabinet, and then she would be his. Granted, he would have been happier with a cottage, but there was a frisson of excitement to be had by courting her in limbo.

Lizzie had filled the cabinet with her few dresses. She had no need of extravagant clothes, and what she had took up little space. As she stepped back to close the door the sunlight caught something on the Cabinet's wooden floor. Curious, she stepped cautiously into it, bending down to retrieve the object. As she did so, the doors were gusted shut by a blast of wind that came from nowhere, and she pitched head first into a shifting, shocking void that made her scream in alarm. Lizzie was not normally given to histrionics, but now she gave into them with a gutsy abandon.

"Help!" she screamed, rather unimaginatively. And then, "Please! Help!"

Minding her manners didn't do much to help her, however. No help was to be had. Julius had been very clever, loading the Cabinets with as much magic as their solid frames could take. The one left at Lizzie's cottage had been charmed so that after one use it would be rendered ineffective. No sounds could pass from it, and anyone stepping into it would find themselves standing in an ordinary cupboard.

She was, to all intents and purposes, his.

The first time Julius had entered the Cabinet, she had been hard to find, but he had persevered and had found her floating, curled up in a ball, sobbing to herself. She had pleaded with him, begged him to be set free, but he had not listened. Instead he had caressed her face by the light of his wand, explaining to her what he was and how he had managed to imprison her in this constructed limbo.

If she had been horrified before, she was now a subject of abject terror.

Julius had grown tired of trying to dry her tears and had Disapparated from the limbo with a sigh of frustration.

His second visit was no better. She had cried even louder, and was now berating him for his heartless behaviour. She had a husband to return to, a life to live! Could he not see that she would never love him?

Julius went back to the bedroom and decided he would sleep there in future, in order to be closer to that which he could still not fully possess. His father noted the move and resolved to investigate.

The third visit was the first time that Julius began to think he might have made a mistake. Her peachy skin was now grey with sorrow, and her hair had been dulled by the lack of sunlight. Her voice, once siren-like, was now that of a shrew, and he shuddered as she ranted at him.

But he was a Malfoy and Malfoys did not give in.

Meanwhile, her husband, James, was distraught. Searches were made, rewards posted. And still, of Lizzie, there was nothing. Days passed and he was hopeful, but as the days balled themselves up into weeks, he began to accept that his beautiful young wife had met with misfortune. James could not believe that she would have gone of her own free will. On the third month after her disappearance, James moved out of the bedroom that they had briefly shared. He ordered that the furniture be sold as quickly as possible, to whoever wanted it.

As it happened, a young, bespectacled wizard by the name of Binns was passing and spotted the Vanishing Cabinet, sitting forlorn on the grass verge that bordered the farmhouse. He knew it immediately for what it was and offered the owner a handful of strange money. Richard Holt, being a simple man, did not know what the money was and assumed it was from Belgium, but he took it anyway, mindful that his son was in mourning and that no one else had so much as glanced at the big, black monstrosity.

Binns waited until the owner had disappeared back into the house and produced his wand. This Cabinet would fit perfectly into his office back at Hogwarts, and would be the perfect threat for any students bored with his classes. You can imagine his disappointment when he returned to his place of employment to find that it didn't work. With a sigh, he realised he needed somewhere to store it; the colour really didn't match his mellow office after all. As always, the Room of Requirement came to the rescue, and Professor Binns forgot all about the incident.

Cauis, meanwhile, noted that his son was growing moodier and harder to control. With determination on his face he visited the bedroom that his boy had decided to inhabit and looked around. He had been here for six months now, and in that six months he had changed utterly. It would have to stop. He would have to be put to work of some kind.

A quick exchange of owls with Cauis' old conspirator Reginald Burke soon meant that Julius had his bags packed and, with an air of defeat, was being packed off to work as a collector of Dark artefacts for the newly-opened shop in Knockturn Alley. Cauis was surprised that Julius had insisted upon taking the gloomy Vanishing Cabinet, and had warned him that if he even so much as caught a vague notion that Julius was using it to escape his work, he would disinherit him.

So the Vanishing Cabinet took up residence in Borgin and Burkes, Julius having decided that the best thing to do would be to sell it on. The last time he had visited Lizzie she had tore her nails across his face and created weals that had had to be explained away as the work of a cat. And besides, there was a lovely young lady who kept dropping in the shop searching for necklaces with some history to them. She was much more fun than Lizzie, with her tinkling laugh and shimmering blonde hair. Lizzie really had outlived her usefulness, but, unfortunately, not her life.

So, when Julius finally proposed to the lovely Fenella Black and moved back to the family estate, he hadn't given the fate of the poor woman trapped within the Vanishing Cabinet a second thought.

And one hundred years later, Lizzie Vine's sad song continued to torment the man who had inherited his father's shop. For some reason, no one had ever wanted to buy the Cabinet, and he hadn't the heart to get rid of it. One day, he would unlock the secrets that the Cabinet held; one day he would see the face of the woman that produced that song.

Unless a young man by the name of Draco Malfoy beat him to it, that is. 


End file.
